


London Calling

by ArchRose



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Final Battle, Humor, London, Romance, fluffy cupcakes, space monkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:29:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchRose/pseuds/ArchRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini-stories revolving around the final push to the beam in London with the crew members of the Normandy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lone Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Clearly I borrowed the title from The Clash, and I’m not apologizing for it. I’ve been in this phase of editing a really long story that I’m putting together, and moments about the final mission in ME3 kept popping into my brain. So I’m playing around in the ME sandbox to help clear away the clutter filling up the creative space. These will be a series of mini-fics with different pairings and circumstances in each one. Some will be sappy and full of fluffy cupcakes. A few will be humorous. Others will be sad. So it’s a bit of everything. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> No beta on these, so I'm sure there are spelling/grammar errors that I have overlooked. I'll fix them as they appear! Currently at an M rating for language. I'll note at the beginning of a chapter is the context changes.
> 
> And as always, I do not own any of the Mass Effect characters, names, likeness, and what not. I’m building my own castle in their sand.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First up, the always desirable pairing of FemShep/Garrus.

She did what every decent soldier, what every good commanding officer should always do. She abstained from living her life. She focused. She worked hard. She maintained professionalism at all times.

And she never let anyone in. She never relaxed. Never allowed herself to be vulnerable.

The line was always clear to Shepard. You do not cross it for subordinates. She may have shouldered herself as callous or most likely cold. It didn’t matter. She was a loyal solider. She did what had to be done, what no one else could do.

As she stood looking out of the window of this dilapidated building, it’s brick frame somehow managing to withstand the brunt of the Reaper attacks, starting down her target – the beam to the Citadel – for the first time Shepard felt unsure. Death was coming. She could feel it prickling the hairs along the back of her neck. She was use to the sensation. It came with the territory. And while all but one instance she was able to escape it, the feeling was never so potent before. She might actually die today.

So much to live for. So little time left. And everything she had accomplished so far, becoming the first Human Spectre, saving the Citadel Council, stopping Saren, bringing down countless reapers, saving numerous Human colonies from The Collector’s, did any of that really matter? Her heroism was brushed away after she died on the Normandy. She was “disgraced” according to all official and unofficial records after the Citadel was attacked by Soverign. The Council had to be heavily coerced to uphold her Spectre status after she returned, courtesy of Cerberus. Even as the Reaper attacked, it took all of her energy, her strength, her resolve, her patience, and her sanity to get everyone to cooperate. And even still, she may not be remembered for her labor.

Shepard was never concerned about leaving behind a legacy. She did her job and she did it well. That was enough for her and everyone else. But was that all her life was about? Was that all she could hope for? Work hard and then death?

She sighed, not for the first or probably the last time today. But the weight of her reality was sitting on top of her chest, bearing down until it wanted to break her.

Had Shepard actually _lived_?

Her world revolved around being a soldier. She gave up everything to be the best that she could…for everyone else.

What did she miss out on all of those days and nights, those weekends, those holidays, those shore leaves? Friends, obviously. But, romance maybe? God to think of Commander Shepard as having any sort of interest in anyone is absurd. She’s hardcore. The Alliance poster-child if there ever was one, until that whole relay incident with the Batarian’s happened.

She missed out on eating dinner with her crew. Never celebrated her birthday with anyone, or went to any parties. She never knew what it was like to play a video game or to sing really badly at a karaoke bar. She didn’t know what it was like to get drunk, let alone to drink. She never went to a club to just dance with friends.

Friends…

Hell she didn’t know if the people who were her ground team, the people that she’s spent more time with in the last three years than anyone else in her entire life, the people that believed in her, and the people that she trusted, were they even her friends? She never allowed them to get close. She never could let them in. She had to be their CO. Nothing more.

When all is said and done, did Shepard actually live a life worth dying for? Maybe that’s why she was the best man for the job. Everyone had something to live for. She could die for others to live. That’s a worthy reason to continue. Right?

Her head jerked to the left as she heard the clamping of heavy, two-toed boots on the floor. Despite his tall stature, he was always light on his feet. But it’s hard to avoid the debris of the glass and remnants of the home that once stood here.

“Shepard,” Garrus flanged voice spoke softly as he continued to cautiously tread forward.

Without hesitation she pulled herself from her thoughts, resuming her casual stance by crossing her arms and sinking into her right hip. She needed to focus and accept her fate. “Are you ready for this?”

He flicked his good mandible as he glanced on the window before returning his eyes to her. “As much as a renegade Turian can be.”

She hid the smile threatening to break and pulled her head back to the mutilated landscape. She felt Garrus saddle up beside her, hands clasped behind him as he followed her gaze. Overturned cars. Demolished buildings. Ash grey skies. Seemingly endless mass graves being dug wherever there was free space, in hopes of some semblance that the dead will be granted dignity. So much destruction…and for what? A cycle that may repeat again in 50,000 years? Killing all organics to bring “balance” to the galaxy?

“What about you?” he whispered.

Shepard shrugged her shoulders. “Is it weird to think I was born for this moment?”

“Not really. But what about after?”

_After…_

“It’s not an option.”

Garrus took in a breath. Shepard could sense him struggling to maintain his composure. “Why not?”

Nonchantantly she answered, “I feel death coming for me this time.”

Shepard closed her eyes for a brief second. It was the most candid she had ever spoken with someone. She had never been so…open before. It surprised her. Maybe…maybe this was the real deal. Maybe her destiny was to be the forgotten hero that saved the galaxy thrice over. The cold twinge creeping down her spine wasn’t going away.

“It feels different when you know you’re going to die.”

Shepard shot her eyes open and turned to Garrus, as he continued to stare out the open window. Her brows quirked in confusion.

“We’ve faced it so many times before, but when it’s about to happen, everything becomes a daze except your goals. You get cold. You feel it tremble against your body, through your bones and plates, and it doesn’t go away. It stays with you until that very moment when you’re hit. When you go down and its claws rake over you. And you know you have to face it. There’s no way to escape.”

Omega. He had to be talking about Omega. It was the only time Shepard could remember seeing him look so sullen and stoic at the same time.

“But, there is always hope. There is always a reason to live for another day.”

She scoffed and he shifted his head to her.

“This is what I’m meant to do,” she answered with a motion of her hand out the window. “Save the galaxy and die in a blaze of glory.” Her arm dropped as a gust of wind brushed against her face, causing her hair to gently tumble against the neck of her armor. Her eyes continued to draw out along the site. “I have nothing else to live for,” she whispered.

“You have me,” he answered abruptly.

Before she could turn to challenge his assertion, Garrus opened his arms, wrapped them behind Shepard’s back and pulled her in for an embrace. Her breath catching and releasing as their chest plates clanked together.

“Garrus…”

“Let me finish,” he responded softly, threading a gloved hand slowly into her hair. And while every single one of her commanding instincts was yelling at her to _push away, break the hold, move_! Shepard stood still. An odd sense of comfort, something that she hadn’t felt, well, ever, settled her senses.

“I may not get another chance,” he began. “I thought I would die after that gun ship. I remember the pain ebbing away into a chill, a darkness that I haven’t experienced before. It was biting at me all day, and I wasn’t surprised that it happened.” He bowed his head down slightly, closing his eyes as he took in another breath, inhaling her scent as he inched closer to her face. “I accepted it. I was going to let it happen. And then…you were there. You, you blocked out the darkness.” He opened his eyes again, carefully studying the blank expression on Shepard’s face. “I…” He sighed. “I had never seen you look so, majestic. You told me to hold on, and I did. For you.” Garrus slowly brought his hand from the back of her head to cup her cheek in his palm. “You are my reason to make it through for tomorrow.” Gently he pressed his head down, brushing his plates against her forehead. “So come back. It’ll be an awfully lonely galaxy without you.”

Shepard wasn’t stunned. Shocked into her frozen stance, she didn’t know what to do or how to respond. This is Garrus. Garrus! Her comrade in arms. Probably the only person, alien, whatever she trusted and relied on when things turned to hell, to watch over her. And as the same time, he could be reckless, irresponsible, and clumsy over his own words. In her life where she had no friends, Garrus was probably as close as it was going to get, and even he was never privy to her personal affairs. He didn’t know about her mom, her dad, her past, or her present beyond killing the Reapers. Sure they joked around on the combat field, and he occasionally made a flirtatious comment when they passed each other in the mess, but it’s expected of soldiers. James Vega is the embodiment of that behavior.

And yet…

Though all of the battles and the tough decisions, the arguments and the political bullshit, there was always one constant: she couldn’t have done it without Garrus. His pointy face, his warbled voice, and his ridiculously too tall to be realistic imposing height…if he died that day, she wouldn’t have found the will to keep going.

Shepard closed her eyes, bringing her arms up to clasp her hands on his shoulders, and pressed her forehead back into his. She felt him hum, the vibrations of his voice emanating from his plates and across her bare skin. And she smiled. Nothing major; just a tug at the corners of her mouth. But it was out of character for her. She couldn’t explain it even if she tried. But the way Garrus held her, the way he looked into her eyes with his cobalt blue orbs, the things that he was saying, and all of the things he didn’t say…

Yeah she might have at least one reason to live though this.

If anything, her curiosity had been peaked enough to figure out what the heck ‘ _this’_ thing between them was.


	2. Space Monkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Javik being Javik.

“What did you call me?” Shepard whipped her head around, nearly crashing her shoulder into the adjoining wall as Javik kept his focus on a group of Alliance soldiers running supplies across the camp. Some carried wooden crates, others shared the load of moving beams. A few were trying to lift the heavier metal containers by themselves.

“The Krogan were calling you Humans ‘space monkies,’ Commander. I did not understand the meaning of the words.”

Shepard huffed a sigh. “Oh, then I guess it could be forgiven.”

“Until the AI unit enlightened me.”

“Great,” Shepard responded with a roll of sarcasm dipping her voice a few octaves lower than their usual register.

“Your species evolved from this primate creature called a monkey. And though they are considered your closest relatives, your people experimented on them, that you even sent one into space.”

Shepard held up a hand. “If our defense, it was to test to make sure that flight to space was possible. And while I don’t condone the actions, the monkey being our closest relative gave us more accurate readings on how human bodies would respond to the change in atmospheric pressure.”

“By shooting primates into space in an inferior craft that falls apart at launch.”

“Javik…this could be our last conversation together before we all die and this is what you want to talk about?”

With a roll of his shoulders, Javik turned to the Commander. “I am trying to determine why it took you so long to evolve in this cycle.”

A loud crash captured their attention. Shifting their heads, they found the Alliance unit below in peril as several crates toppled over on top of a man. Boxes in disarray, and rations tumbling out over his head, the man grunted in dismay as his comrades looked on with mirth; one man sitting and clutching his side as the ruckus overcame the rest of the men as they joined in the laughs.

“Now I understand.”

Shepard shook her head. “Space monkeys. Yep. The Reapers better be afraid of us.”

“If I leave now, it might not be too late to get back to the hibernation pod.”


	3. We’re Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> femShep and Ashley have a heart to heart.

Her gloved fingers ran over the casing for the fifth time, checking for any cracks or oddities in her rifle. It was still as clean and damage free as the day she receive it from the Alliance. Ashley huffed a sigh as she pried open the bullet chamber to check her heat sync. “Does it get any easier, Skip?"

Commander Shepard stepped out from the shadows of an adjoining pillar, arms crossed as she watched the woman carefully survey her gear. “I think today is an exception. We haven’t faced anything like this before.”

The brown haired woman chuckled low in her throat. “Yeah, that’s true.” Her hands flipped over her rifle as she started to examine the other side, eyes pouring over every nut and bolt for any type of abnormalities. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t burnt a hole through that thing with your eyes.”

Ashley shook her head but didn’t look up. “I can’t shake it. Something is wrong with my rifle but I can’t figure it out. It’s eating at me.”

Shepard nodded and slowly took a seat next to the marine. Her armor clanked against the box as she kept her focus on Ashley, letting the silence stretch out between them for seemingly endless minutes. Forward, back, upside down, short of taking out a screwdriver and tearing the damn thing apart, Ashley would not stop looking at the weapon. A slip of her left hand, and Ashley’s glove snagged at the edge the barrel.

“God…” she bit back the rest of her curse as her hand curled into a fist to quell the throbbing pain.

“Let me.” Shepard quickly divested Ashley of the rifle and gingerly placed it into her lap, letting her fingers roam around the familiar weapon.

“What is wrong with me today?” Ashley muttered under her breath, using her other hand to take off the glove and inspect the damage. It was a simple surface abrasion along the palm of her hand that ran to her thumb, but damn did it sting. “This is just another mission.”

“Where we decide the fate of the galaxy, try to stop a bunch of Reapers attacking us at once, activate the Crucible-a device which we have no clue as to what it does, and try to live through it.”  
Ashley’s lips curled downward into a frown as she leaned back against the wall. “Something like that.”

“What are you really worried about Ash?”

The young woman’s eyes darted to the Commander, who had thrown herself headfirst into her task. The weapon neatly dismantled into Shepard’s lap as she quickly inspected piece by piece of the weapon. Leave it to the savior of the galaxy to overdo her job.

“I don’t know,” Ashley responded with a sigh. “I guess, I just want this all to work out.”

“And what makes you think it won’t?”

“Aside from the near impossible ods? This is making the whole Saren thing look like a leisurely afternoon date.”

Shepard smirked as she continued to work on the rifle. “We did get to go to some nice planets while we were hunting him down. Not a bad way to romance a woman.”

“Tried some good food too,” Ashley quipped as she folded her hands in her lap.

“Went to some clubs…”

“Did some bad dancing.”

The Commander lifted her head and furrowed her brows. “Cheap shot.”

Ashley grinned back. “All in all, they were good times.” Her eyes roamed over the Commander’s hands as they skillfully reassembled the rifle; a comfortable silence washing over the two women as they muted sounds of battle raged behind the safety of the camp’s walls. “Skip,” Ashley began, running a hand through her hair. “Do you think we’ll make it?” A tremor emerged from her voice that surprised Shepard, as the Commander raised her head to re-focus on the young woman to her left.

“I don’t know.”

The earnest tone in the response caused Ashley to sink further back into the wall she leaned against.

“But I want to believe that we will. And I’ll be working my ass off to make sure that we do. All of us. And if you can believe in the team, in me, then we’ll make it happen.” A smirk and Shepard dropped her head back down to get back to work on the weapon.

“It’s that simple, huh?”

“It’s only as complicated as you make it out to be. Simple makes the goals much easier to obtain.”

Ashley smiled. “I can handle simple.”

“Speaking of,” Shepard held up the rifle for Ashley to grasp. “Your problem is easy.” Her fingers ghosted over the Carnifex logo near the handle as a flap of the decal peeled up. “Rip it off or tape it down.”

Ashley couldn’t help but laugh as she took the weapon back into her lap. “Of course. The simple things are easy to grasp, but also wind you up when you overlook them. Thanks Shepard.”


	4. When a Man Loves Wrex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a broShep interlude. Friendly, brotherly feelings here. :) 
> 
> Also a poor attempt at a word limit challenge. 600 words...went over with 610. Oh well!

A clap against his armored back caused the imposing Krogan to turn around and face his friend. The human they called Shepard. With a toothy grin emerging, he responded in kind with an outstretched hand, clasping the Commander’s arm.

“Shepard. About time you got the fight moving. We’ve been waiting.”

The human man smirked, running a hand over his shaved head with mischief in his eyes. “Had to make sure I had the best with me.”

“Of course! Without the Krogan, this plan would be worthless.” Wrex crossed his arms along his chest with a snort. “Bet the Turians wished they had patched things with us sooner.”

“Wrex…”

“Yeah, yeah. Keeping my mouth shut in front of the plate heads.”

“Says the ‘King of Plate Heads’.” With that, Shepard rapped his knuckle a top of Wrex’s skull, cresting against the scars that line his red crown.

A rumble in his chest and the Krogan released a snarl. “If you weren’t my brother, I’d throw your squishy hide across the room.”

“Hmph. Just remember that it’s this ‘squishy hide’ that will save your asses when we get to the end.” Shepard emphasized with a point of his finger.

“Uh huh. I think you’re forgetting that without us, the galaxy would be covered with Rachni and your kind wouldn’t have evolved to see space.” Wrex’s eyes began to squint as he took stock of the human in front of him. Cocky Commander Shepard. He looked like every other human out there in his eyes, if it weren’t for the obvious red scarring on his face and the unique gun oil scent, there was nothing special about him. Shepard didn’t look like a man ready to enter battle. He stood in his Alliance uniform, out of armor, resting back on one leg with his arms at his sides. Boastful and trying to gain the upper hand on size against the Krogan, like so many Human Alliance soldiers try to do. Until they piss their pants when said Krogan takes half a step forward. Never intimidate the alpha male. 

But Shepard was different. He got shit done. He kept his word. He was an honorable sort. But never feared using his good arm to slug a punch when someone deserved it. He would have made a great Krogan.

“Alright. I’ll let you have that.” Shepard’s gaze suddenly turned somber. It wasn’t something anyone would typically notice, but for Wrex, it was an expression he hadn’t seen on the Commander’s face before. Subtle, but obviously troubling. A man that has faced thousands of potential deaths… “It’s been a good run, Wrex. Whatever happens from here...”

Another snort and Wrex stepped forward, opening his arms and clapping the Commander’s back. “Shit Shepard. No getting sentimental on me. We’re going in hard and kicking the Reaper’s ass back to whatever hole they crawled out of.” Trepidation laced his voice. He needed to be strong for his clan, for his comrades, but all of Shepard’s friends knew that this would be it. For all the years that the Commander helped them, it was time for Wrex to give back and keep Shepard’s spirits up.

A chuckle from the Human as his gaze shifted back to the tall buildings of London. “You’re right about that, brother.”

“I still owe you that bottle of Ryncol. Don’t disappoint me and end up dead in a ditch. Because, you know, that would suck. I can’t afford to bribe Cerberus.”

The bellowing laugh from the tiny human under his arm caused the grin on Wrex’s face to grow wider. Whatever it takes to keep his brother on course, he was happy to oblige.


End file.
